


Grave For Two

by Morpheus626



Category: Da Sweet Blood of Jesus (2014)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood and Violence, Blood-Covered Sex, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:13:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25042213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morpheus626/pseuds/Morpheus626
Summary: You (gender non-specific reader) and Seneschal have more in common than you know, despite having been together for some time. But it'll take this day and everything that happens during it to bring that to the light, and to bring you two even closer together.
Relationships: Seneschal Higginbottom/Reader





	Grave For Two

**Author's Note:**

> My first, and potentially only, Seneschal fic (because a search of Tumblr and AO3 revealed that there really isn’t fic for this movie, not that I could find much at least.) Also, my first reader-insert that I’ve written in ages, so hopefully I’ve still got that skill decently in hand. Had to create and mix various vampire canon from Da Sweet Blood of Jesus and other media, plus my knowledge of that sort of folklore. I think it worked lol.

“It really is beautiful,” you said as your boat approached Martha’s Vineyard, the greenery of the island and the tan of its sands coming into view. 

“It’s alright,” Seneschal murmured, his hands loose on the small speedboat’s wheel. He seemed distracted, but he had since he’d gotten the call from his employer to go check on the house right now, to bring you with if he had to, but to go immediately. Your shared apartment wasn’t horribly far away, but it was still a good few hours by car and then by boat, and it was still a disruption to what had been a vacation day for him. 

“I suppose you’re used to it, so it doesn’t ‘wow’ you anymore,” you replied. “Being around mansions like this, with their gardens adding to the summer air. Just another day for you now.” 

He shrugged. “Smells like a funeral, after a while. Too many flowers, with scents that linger too long.” 

“Then who died?” you asked, gesturing to the shore as you approached the small private dock and section of beach that belonged to his employer. 

He didn’t answer as he stopped by the dock, and maneuvered out of the boat to secure it to the dock. You didn’t want to press him for an answer either. He was clearly frustrated at losing a vacation day, but he looked especially grim right now. 

“So, will I get to meet him? The mysterious man who signs your paychecks and then travels away again while you look after his home?” 

“Hopefully not,” Seneschal said shortly. 

“You’ve never spoken poorly of him.” 

“I don’t speak of him at all, except as an employer,” Seneschal replied as he helped you out of the boat and onto the dock. “As the man, he can make his own decisions, like anyone else. I don’t worry about that part of him. Just about him as an employer. 

He led you up the beach and onto a path that led to the house, or so he called it, but it was a mansion, as intimidating as it was beautiful. But an empty beauty, like a home that was somehow meant to stay vacant. 

The inside of the house was just as gorgeous, but you kept your hands to yourself. Seneschal had talked often of the vast collection of African art his employer had, and it was evident that these were museum pieces that decorated the house. You treated them with reverence, and stood near the entry way of the house as Seneschal locked the door and started to trot off to the nearby stairs. 

“You can sit. The couch isn’t a relic, I promise.” 

You smiled. “Just being careful. You never know, after all. Just because it isn’t a relic doesn’t mean it isn’t horribly expensive and possibly fragile.” 

“Sit,” he laughed, and his smile was a reassuring thing to see as you tried to adjust to the unsettling quiet of the house. 

It was a lot for you, but then again you figured it simply wasn’t your taste. You never did mind the rush of a bigger city, the noise as comforting as it could be annoying. Out here, there was nothing like that, but you could see why Seneschal’s employer might like it. There was nothing wrong with wanting peace and quiet. 

Still, it left you jumpy, even at the sound of Seneschal’s returning footsteps.

“Alright?” he asked as he sat beside you on the couch. 

You nodded. “Just…do places ever feel to you like they have…I don’t know how to describe it. Potential, maybe?” 

“How so?” 

“Like they’re…fraught with something. Like something terrible happened there, or will happen. But you don’t know exactly when, or if it already has happened.” 

He glanced around the room before his gaze returned to yours. “You feel that here?” 

“I don’t know why,” you sighed. “Has anything ever…” 

“Happened here?” he asked, and chewed at his inner cheek like he always did whenever he was nervous or deep in thought, often times both. “Let’s go talk on the beach.” 

“I knew it, wild rich people, he bugs the house!” 

“What? No,” Seneschal laughed. “At least, if he does he’s never said, aside from the security cameras outside. No, because it’s nice out and when do we normally get a chance to enjoy a private beach?” 

It was nice, to smile and giggle as he gathered beach towels from a closet and led you outside, his free hand on your lower back. 

You watched as he arranged the towels on the warm sand, and realized you’d never asked him how he’d gotten into this line of work. The wind mussed his hair, and he smiled up at you, and you realized you could have go the rest of your life without knowing, so long as he was there and happy with you. Certain details just…weren’t needed, just like the things he didn’t know about you.

It was a lovely thing, sitting on the private beach area, a soft towel beneath you and the sun over you. 

Seneschal had put on his sunglasses and laid back, looking as relaxed as you’d ever seen him while dressed for work, in the chinos and sweaters he favored. 

“Fully-clothed sunbathing just as fun as the regular version?” 

A brow raised, and he smiled. “Is with you.” 

“Sweet. But, are you gonna spill it, or…” 

The smile dropped. “You don’t ever question me.” 

“No. You don’t give me cause to. I love you, you love me, we’re doing well and happy together. Trouble finds a person easy enough in life, why invite it in if you can keep it out?” 

“The blood I keep in our fridge?” he asked.

“You shrugged. “My collection of knives, often in need of cleaning?” 

“I never eat or drink anything.” 

“Nor do I, so it works out quite well,” you replied. 

He sat up and turned to face you, taking off his sunglasses, his eyes searching yours. “You know nothing about my work or my employer except that he’s well off, collects historical African art, and that he often requires me to be his live-in help, leaving you alone in the city for weeks, months, at a time.” 

“You know nothing about my employer, except that most of what she asks me to do consists of working from home to monitor some security cameras in the home she owns, but doesn’t like and doesn’t want to sell, so never goes to. Even though she has someone come in and check on it quite often.” 

“You just…accept without knowing,” he smiled again, and it was warmer than the sun beating down on you both. “And you’d be fine without knowing more, wouldn’t you?” 

“Same as you,” you replied. 

You both leaned in for the kiss, but he was the one to pull you closer and down with him, pressing kisses to your neck while you laughed. 

“Something did,” he said breathlessly. “Happen here. But if I tell you-” 

“Loose lips sink ships, baby, and we have to use one to get home,” you interrupted, and kissed him again. 

He nodded, and let you roll off of him as he sat back up. 

“My employer, the original one, is dead. He has been for a good few years now. The current one, his wife, refuses to return here, but doesn’t want anyone else to have the home. Doesn’t like the memories. She lives elsewhere, has various homes all over. Just asks me to stay here, keep it up, make it look lived in.” 

“Memories?” 

He was chewing at the inside of his cheek again before he replied. “You remember the Ashanti ceremonial dagger I told you my employer had obtained?” 

You nodded. “The people who were addicted to blood transfusions.” 

He looked down. “…vampires is the closest modern term I’ve found for it. Though I’d almost rather call it something else. Blood addiction sounds better, in a strange way.” 

“True. So your employer, and his wife became…” 

He nodded. “And her and I…back then didn’t get along. She thought I was dead. And I was, at first. Now, I work for her. She sometimes…sends guests over. They come here expecting her, but instead…” 

“So that’s why your checks went down a little,” you chuckled. “She pays you partially in meals now.” 

His head whipped back up. “You know?” 

“Yeah. Don’t you?” 

He gave you a curious look. “You?” 

“I always try and make sure the blood supply doesn’t get low, and I only touch yours if I can’t get more on my own right away. But I figured you’d noticed by now, the times it was rather low, and you hadn’t been home for weeks on end.” 

His eyes closed as you leaned over and kissed him. “And I don’t think she’ll mind, if I’d come with you every now and again here. I’d love to finally have dinner with you.” 

In a flash, he was up, pulling you with him as he gathered the towels and dragged you back to the house. 

Inside, he tossed the towels to the floor, barely got the door locked behind you before he was on you, hands and lips roaming.

Then his phone rang. 

He grimaced against your lips, and sighed. “Give me a moment.” 

You watched as he answered and listened, only listened. He hung up the phone, and turned to you.

“How did she know? Not just that you’re here, with me, but that you’re a-” 

“Rich people,” you shrugged. “All so paranoid. Can’t even leave the cameras to be reviewed later, they want someone with eyes on them at all times. One of my coworkers is watching the house tonight. Left corner, just there. Go on, wave.” 

He turned to look at the corner, then looked back at you with a smirk. “When were you gonna tell me?” 

You shrugged. “Whenever it came up. And here we are.” 

“You’ve seen everything I’ve done in this house,” he said as he pulled you by the hips further into the living room to the couch. 

“I have. And I know what you like to do, alone in that stupidly big bedroom. If you want, you don’t have to be alone in it anymore,” you teased. “She say if any food is on the way?” 

He smiled. “A couple she’s caught trying to steal art from her husband’s pieces that are out traveling to other museums to be resold. They bid, then try to run with the item without paying, apparently, but have gotten away each time. She invited them for a nice dinner, to show no hard feelings.” 

“Surely their bad behavior is all a misunderstanding,” you pouted, then giggled. “Not in need of any punishment.” 

“None at all,” he hissed as he kissed you and pushed you onto the couch. “That would be cruel. If something were to happen, no one would find them out here.” 

“Never. Person could die out here, and nobody would ever know. Especially if you don’t mention such an invite, and you wouldn’t if it had to do with thefts like that. Can’t have the neighbors know about all that.” 

“Of course not. No, this would just be for the two of you to enjoy. A dinner with the woman who happens to control the entire collection you want to steal,” he said as he laid on top of you, kissing you softly. “They’ll come here wanting a fight.” 

“Let’s give them one then,” you replied, pulling him close so his head rested on your shoulder and chest. “Makes it taste better anyway. All that energy in the blood.” 

He hummed happily. “We should get ready. They’ll be here sooner rather than later.” 

For a bit, you both played the part, putting on clean clothes from the assortment in Seneschal’s room, an apron over those as you set the table for a dinner that wouldn’t happen. Wine glasses for wine that wasn’t there, plates for a meal that wasn’t being cooked. 

But they seemed none the wiser, as they came inside an hour later, led by you to the dinner table. 

“Go ahead and get comfortable. Your host will be out shortly to greet you,” you said, biting back a smile that threatened to burst forth. Their eyes were dim with their lack of knowledge. Maybe they were ready to fight, to kill to gain control of the art collection, but were they ready to kill to save themselves? 

Not that it would matter anyway. You two had the advantage on that. 

It was hard to keep calm, to keep your hands off of Seneschal as you prepared. The aprons were left in the kitchen, exchanged for knives from the block on the counter. The weapon didn’t really matter, they were just the most convenient in the moment. 

“You ready?” you asked as you kissed him yet again, biting at his lip. “I’ve wanted to do this with you for ages, god.” 

“Hold onto that,” he replied as he held you, hands running over your ass and back, your hips. “For after. It’ll be even better then.” 

It was delicious, even before the blood flowed. The fear in their eyes as you both walked out, hands on them before they could move. 

“We weren’t going to kill her,” the man said. 

“Sure you weren’t,” Seneschal said as he used one hand to keep his knife at the man’s neck, the other reaching into the man’s sport coat pocket. “What’s this then?” 

There were at least three syringes of the mystery fluid in his sport coat, and you found five more in the woman’s small purse. “A tragic accident, right? She dies in her sleep, and for some reason leaves the collection to you.” 

The rest of their begging was white noise as you slit her throat, drinking as quickly as you could while the blood drained from her, watching as Seneschal did the same to the man. A shame for the hardwood floors, but they could be cleaned.

You let her fall to the floor, hands scrabbling as she tried to crawl away. 

Seneschal took his turn with her, grabbing a blood-covered arm to slit it open, licking the blood as it dripped out. His eyes met yours, and it took everything in you not to go over to him and tear his clothes off right then. 

But you had your own turn to take with the man, who was shaking his head as much as he could manage. You sat in his lap, and stabbed the knife straight into the side of his neck, then pulled it out. The remaining blood there flowed like wine being poured, and you sighed as you drank. Fresh was so much better than the leftovers in your fridge back at home. 

When they were both finally silent and still, you finished it. The butcher’s knife from the block in the kitchen wasn’t the best tool to chop off their heads, but it made it easier. The last thing you needed was them coming back. 

The bodies and their heads lay just ahead of you both as you settled down together on the floor, sitting in your blood-stained clothes. The blood pooled around you and the bodies was rapidly drying, and that didn’t leave much time for the rest of it. 

You pulled off Seneschal’s clothes and he took off yours before you lay together in the blood, letting it soak into your skin, your hair as you kissed and rutted against each other. 

Seneschal lapped some of it from near your shoulder, and you both giggled. 

“Full?” 

“Almost. Still got a craving for something,” he growled, and licked at the blood drying on your chest. “You?” 

You responded by wrapping your legs around him, pulling him as close as possible, grinding against his hard cock. “What do you think?” 

You figured the monitoring of the cameras had been abandoned for the night by now, since the threat of the couple was well taken care of, but you didn’t really care. Let your coworkers and your and Senechal’s shared boss watch if they so desired. It almost turned you on more, the idea of them watching and jealous at all the fun you were having. 

It certainly seemed to do something for Seneschal, who left you only for a moment to grab lube from the bathroom before slipping inside of you with a moan, and looking up to where one of the cameras was hung. 

He waved, and you cackled. “Don’t give them the satisfaction.” 

“No?” 

“No. Give it to me instead. I want them jealous. Of the good meal, the good sex, us,” you hissed as you moved slow, reaching to hold his hips and keep him from speeding up. 

He growled as he kissed you hard, and you let him move then, to reset the pace. Just a little faster, a little harsher as you fucked in the remnants of your meal, the dried blood flaking off both your skin, smearing when kisses and licks hit it. 

It was a haze then, relaxing and drifting in how good he made you feel, like electricity crackling lazily in your blood, on your skin. 

It was that place beyond words, meeting his eyes every now and again in between kisses, running your hands over his back and neck, to his chest. Every moan of his in your ear was like music of the sweetest kind. 

When you came it was hard, full-body, wrapping yourself to cling around him, grinding against him as much as you could while your eyes rolled to the back of your head. 

He followed you, hips jerking and muscles shaking as he groaned. His arms wrapped around tight like a vise, and if he never let go that was more than fine with you. 

Time passed heavy and slow, and you weren’t sure how long you stayed together like that, whimpering and sighing softly, kissing and leaving hickeys wherever you could reach. 

Finally, you both moved and untangled your limbs, standing on still shaky legs. The freezer downstairs was big enough for the bodies and their heads that you both worked to haphazardly toss into it. You could deal with it all properly tomorrow. 

For now, there was a bathtub big enough for both of you, where you would wash each other off, leaving the water and the foam of the soap bright red, staining the tub just slightly. From there, a soft and unused for years bed that Seneschal had already made sure had clean sheets and pillow cases and blankets as you crawled into it together. 

You were warm and full as you snuggled together. Maybe you could convince your employer to a new arrangement: you and Seneschal staying together in the house for the months she wanted it inhabited. You could find your own food, she didn’t have to send over meals unless she wanted to, of course. She was paying both of you already, it wasn’t like it would a strenuous change, and she liked making things easier for herself and everyone who worked for her. 

And you could certainly get used to this, you thought as you lay against Seneschal. There was no heartbeat to hear in either of your chests, but love didn’t necessarily need a heartbeat. 

Just the two of you. 


End file.
